LSU has never lacked star power at wide receiver. If anything, the program has been defined by it.
JaāMarr Chase. Justin Jefferson. Malik Nabers. Brian Thomas Jr. Names that dominate highlight reels, top NFL rankings, and national conversations. For years, LSUās receiver room has been a factory for superstardom ā a place where dominance is expected, not celebrated.

And then thereās Kayshon Boutte.
He was never the loudest name. Never the most decorated. Never the safest bet to become the face of āWide Receiver University.ā Yet as the 2025 season closes and the Super Bowl arrives, Boutte stands in a strangely lonely place.
Heās the only one going.
While Chase remains elite, Jefferson battled instability, Nabers lost his season to injury, and others faded from the spotlight, Boutte quietly stayed on the field. No headlines. No hype resurgence. Just survival ā and opportunity.
That contrast says more than any ranking list ever could.
At LSU, Boutteās career exists in a strange gray zone between promise and what-if. His freshman-year explosion in 2020 felt like the beginning of something historic.

Over the final three games of that season, he caught 27 passes for 527 yards and four touchdowns ā numbers that made fans whisper about records, legacies, and inevitability.
But inevitability never arrived.
Injuries, inconsistency, and shifting circumstances kept Boutte from reaching the heights many expected. By the time he left Baton Rouge, his rĆ©sumĆ© was solid ā not legendary.
Statistically, his place in LSU history is clear:
⢠15th all-time in receptions (131)
⢠20th all-time in receiving yards (1,781)
⢠Tied for 10th all-time in receiving touchdowns (16)
Respectable. Durable. But in a program stacked with generational talent, those numbers donāt scream immortality. They whisper reliability.

And yet, hereās the quiet twist.
When the biggest stage arrived, Boutte didnāt disappear.
He advanced.
Now wearing a Patriots uniform, Boutte enters Super Bowl LX not as a focal point, but as something arguably more dangerous: an overlooked variable. He isnāt the defenseās primary fear. He isnāt game-planned around. He exists in the background ā which is exactly where heās lived most of his career.
That anonymity could matter.
The Seahawksā defense is disciplined, fast, and ruthless against predictable threats. But Super Bowls are rarely decided by the names everyone expects. They turn on moments ā broken coverages, secondary reads, receivers who stay ready without attention.

Boutte has lived in that space his entire football life.
New England doesnāt need him to become Chase or Jefferson for one night. They need flashes. Chains moved. A third-down conversion that shouldnāt exist. A reminder of what he once looked like in 2020, when he shredded defenses that thought they had him figured out.
The irony is hard to ignore.
At LSU, Boutte was surrounded by future legends and struggled to separate himself from the pack. In the NFL, surrounded by louder stars and bigger contracts, heās the one still standing when it matters most.

No one is calling him LSUās greatest receiver.
But football doesnāt always reward greatness the way fans expect.
Sometimes, it rewards endurance.

And in a Super Bowl defined by elite defenses and thin margins, the question isnāt whether Kayshon Boutte belongs in LSUās top 10.
Itās whether everyone else stopped paying attention too soon.
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